


the tide will wait

by doublejoint



Category: One Piece
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: For someone who lives on a boat, Zoro's not much of a sailor.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	the tide will wait

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Sail the Waterway" by Steely Dan

The wind and the current of the river are with them, and they reach the last drawbridge ten minutes ahead of schedule by the time Law’s keeping, though it’s also evident from the angle at which the sunlight hits the water through the clouds, the shadows of the bridges not quite long enough. Zoro ties the boat to a support beam under the bridge, the knot good enough but not too tight (though they could always cut it and let the severed end slip down and wash away in the tide, leaving no evidence that they’d ever been there, if it were to come to that). He stretches his legs out, as far as they’ll go in the boat, his heels hooking over the far side of Law’s seat. There’s probably not enough time for a nap, but they might as well relax a little.

Zoro nudges Law’s knee with his own. He doesn’t look relaxed at all, not that Zoro expects him to--their clothes are cheap and itchy, functional disguises but really they could have spent just a little more (but Zoro’s not going to keep arguing with the just-as-stubborn-as-the-real-one version of Nami in his head), and, well, there’s the current delicate phase of their infiltration, and an unforeseen chunk of time to think too much just as they’re settling into the next phase. Law’s probably going over everything that could be going wrong with everyone else right now, and everything that could go wrong with their part, and maybe someone’s got to, but it won’t do anything right now but set him further and further on edge, a rock about to fall down a mountainside to start nothing or an avalanche.

“Hey,” says Zoro.

His breath comes out in a puff of condensation with the word, punctuating in the air. It doesn’t feel like it should be cold enough for that yet, but maybe these clothes are a little warmer than he’d thought they were. (And it is near the depths of winter, autumn island or no.)

Law looks at him, caught mid-thought, and Zoro pushes against his knee again. At this angle, the cheap grey knit cap actually looks kind of cute on Law. 

“Yes?” says Law.

“Ever sailed on a river?”

“It’s been a while,” Law says. “Why?”

“Just thinking,” says Zoro.

He’s not much of a sailor himself, particularly for someone who lives on a boat; he’s picked up enough over time, mostly his passage from island to island in his bounty hunting days, to step a mast in decent time or guess which way the wind will turn next. He’s never sailed for personal pleasure, but something about being out here alone with Law, and having not quite the right kind of time to move toward a pretension that they’re doing that, the knots he’d tied in the rope, the absence of a mast or a place for one in this boat, all adds up to an odd sort of feeling, like missing something he’s never had or wanted.

And he’s never thought of Law as a sailor, either; he could have been if he’d wanted but he’s got that submarine--though, Zoro supposes, he’d never thought about it, the vast icy rivers of Law’s past branching and crossing into tributaries and lakes and places Zoro’s never been or seen. He’d must have had boats before the  _ Polar Tang _ , maybe other submarines, old and cramped and obsolete, or newer and shinier and leakier or just too small. 

Something sounds in the distance, and for a second Zoro thinks it’s rain far away over the water, but no, it’s not cloudy enough, and the noise is harder, the wrong temp, feet on the roadway above them drawing nearer. It could be anyone--guards on alert, guards off alert, citizens on an errand or an evening walk. Zoro sits up straight. The footsteps are steady, and they’re accompanied by voices.

“You really think anyone’s going to try and sneak in? Come on.”

Zoro slowly begins to move to the bottom of the boat, closer to his swords lying under a piece of old sail. They could be idle gossipers; they could be guards ready to attack.

“Yeah, we’d know by now if they were. Pirates these days aren’t exactly subtle,” comes the reply.

Zoro’s hand closes around Wado’s hilt. Probably guards, probably easy to take out. Law, hands still folded in his lap, shakes his head and mouths something Zoro can’t catch.

“I’ll check under the bridge and you walk to the other side and then we’ll report back,” says the first voice. 

“Right,” says the second.

Law mouths the same phrase again, and this time Zoro recognizes it as  _ we’ll blow our cover if we attack them _ , and he’s probably right. But they’ll blow their cover even worse if they’re caught like this; disguises or no, their faces are famous--and then Law and Zoro have the same thought at once. They reach for each other simultaneously, Zoro fisting both hands in the rough fabric of Law’s jacket, Law’s hands cupping Zoro’s face, fingers brushing the shell of Zoro’s ear. Their lips meet, wet and warm and sloppy, Law’s tongue running over Zoro’s teeth, pushing against Zoro’s tongue. Zoro pulls Law in closer as the footsteps get louder, closer down the bank. They’re nearly chest to chest, Law leaning forward in his seat, his nose shockingly cold as it brushes Zoro’s. Zoro sighs into his mouth, probably not loud enough for the patroller to hear but loud enough for Law to hear, and he feels Law’s mouth curving into a smile against his. Law’s tongue slides over his again, licks his bottom lip; one finger traces the outline of Zoro’s ear and Zoro turns into the gesture, making the angle suddenly more awkward, but probably making it even harder to see their faces. 

“Nothing,” the patroller calls, finally, “Just a couple of kids.” 

“Nothing here either.” The other patroller’s voice comes from the other side of the bridge. “Let’s go back.”

They wait a few seconds after the voices and footsteps fade before breaking apart, short of breath, Law’s heart thumping against the heel of Zoro’s hand, Zoro’s own pulse rushing in his ears. Law’s cheeks are flushed, cold when Zoro lifts his hands up to touch them. If they weren’t in a tiny boat in the cold on a tight timeline, with nothing but their weapons and some spare rope in here with them, they could keep going, but right now they don’t have the patience or the luxury. Zoro leans in again and kisses him anyway, this time slow and sweet and measured, for no one but the two of them. Law’s mouth is tender, as a surface of water yielding to a blade. The boat creaks, soft, as Zoro leans forward, and when he pulls back he leaves his hands positioned on the sides of Law’s face. Law’s eyes reflect off the water, reflection off the scattered light filtered through the clouds, complementary shades, Zoro thinks. He’d kiss Law again if there really was time for it.

Zoro unties them and Law pulls out the map in his pocket to consult. The wind has died down, occasionally passing over the river ahead of them, but lazily, just reminding them it’s still there, and the sunlight has noticeably lessened, the shadows fading into the darkening water like suspended silt. 

Law takes the oars and begins to pull. Zoro pops the collar of his coat; there’s already a loose thread. He’ll be able to leave it behind soon, at least. Law looks over his shoulder; they’re still far from the next bend in the river. The flush has faded from his cheeks. Zoro thinks, instead of now, of Law in clothes like these, on a warmer river, stepping a mast with him. And he thinks of the three swords in the bottom of the boat, of the battle that is still days away and the preparations they have left to make--his fingers itch. 

“We should do it,” Zoro says. “Go sailing sometime.”

“Yes,” says Law. “We should.”

His hands are curled tight around the oars, but his posture’s loose enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted them to have a date on the water haha
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
